Abandonment
by pisces317
Summary: House ignores his friendship with Wilson in favor of his relationship with Cuddy and doesn't notice when his friend is injured. Injuries start small but eventually escalate. Warning: Contains Slash eventually! Please Review and tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing!  
_****

* * *

Chapter 1:**

Wilson watched House leave his office, anger, annoyance and sadness in his eyes. Since his friend had started dating Cuddy the only time he has time for Wilson is for relationship advice. He found it demeaning to be demoted from best friend to relationship counselor. Sure, he nudged and encouraged House into this relationship with Cuddy but he didn't realize that once the diagnostician was in the relationship Wilson would be forgotten completely.

He brought his shaking left hand down to his leg, rubbing his thigh to feebly try to get rid of the pain he was feeling in his ankle. He had slipped and fallen on the ice a few days ago but didn't even bother to call House for help, figuring that either he'd be with Cuddy or uninterested because Wilson wasn't Cuddy. It was a bad sprain, Grade III, but knowing that didn't make it hurt less while he hauled himself off the ground and heavily limped over to his car to go to Princeton General's ER.

Wilson was surprised and, if he was completely honest with himself, disappointed that House hadn't noticed the crutches which lay behind his desk, leaning up against his Vertigo poster. Normally that would be the thing that would catch the well meaning but sometimes overly protective diagnostician's eye but now he didn't seem to notice or if he did, he just didn't care.

He felt his heart seize with pain at the possibility of House no longer caring about him. It's not like he wanted the older doctor to be a mother hen but some degree of concern shouldn't be too much to ask, should it?

A knock on his door brought Wilson out of his thoughts. "Yeah?" He called before the door opened revealing Chase looking sheepish.

"House needs you for a consult." He replied while keeping his focus on the ground. Chase knew that House was JUST in here and could have told Wilson himself but had forgotten.

"He was just in here." Wilson pointed out knowing that Chase already knew. "If he needed a consult why didn't he just tell me then?"

"He says that he forgot." Chase replied with a sigh. His expression and body language clearly saying _Don't kill the messenger_.

Wilson raised his hands up to his face, scrubbing it and gently massaging the beginnings of a headache. He took a few deep breaths knowing that it wasn't Chase's fault he'd been demoted. "Is there an image or do I have to go down to the lab?" He asks, not wanting to get up.

Chase cocks his head to the left, looking confused before reality dawns on him and he nods. "It's an image." He replies. "I'll go and grab it. Do you need anything while I'm out?" He ventures unsure as to whether or not he should ask. He knew that Wilson was a private person and didn't like drawing attention to himself nor asking for help but since his supposed best friend couldn't be bothered to notice he was in pain, Chase thought he'd offer.

"No, that's it. Thanks Chase." Wilson replies, a hint of resignation and gratitude in his voice.

Chase opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it and walks out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Wilson lets out a sigh of relief that Chase didn't argue. He really didn't want House's attention now. He gives his aching temples one last rub before returning to his notes on the patient file before him.

* * *

Chase walks in to the conference room of the diagnostics department, not at all surprised that House isn't present anymore. In the beginning he was happy for House, getting together with Cuddy but as time passes he finds himself agreeing with Taub. Cuddy has cut the man's balls off and he now belongs to her, heart (what little one he had), mind (the genius that he once had gone) and body.

Foreman, Masters and Taub all look up at him and then passed him. "Where's Wilson?" Taub asks.

"Wanted me to bring the images to him." Chase replies not wanting to give any further details.

"Is he ok?" Taub asks in his usual, slow and drawn out way.

"He's fine, just busy." Chase replies while he goes over to the first aid kit that they keep stocked in the office. He opens the lid, looks around and upon finding what he wants he grabs it and slips it into his pocket and walks over to grab the images of their patient's liver.

"He's fine. So is that why you're grabbing an ice pack?" Taub counters.

"Is his ankle bothering him?" Masters asks, concern written on her innocent features.

"The man badly sprained his ankle 2 days ago. I'd say it's bothering him. He's lucky it isn't broken." Foreman replied condescendingly as he handed Chase the images. Though Foreman wasn't necessarily close to the oncologist, he did respect him and knew that Wilson liked his privacy.

Chase scooted out of the conference room before anyone else had time to respond. He once again knocked on Wilson's door and waited for the answering "Come in" before he opened it and entered.

Wilson looked up from his patient file and held out a hand for the images. Instead of a film from an MRI or an X-Ray, Chase handed him an instant ice pack first.

"Thought you could use that." He said simply while he looked around Wilson's office. "Do you have anything to elevate your ankle on?"

"No." Wilson admitted with a heavy and uncomfortable sigh. Before he had a chance to tell Chase that he didn't need it the Australian doctor had left, quickly returning with a chair that looked like it had come from diagnostics. "I'm not sure House would appreciate you stealing his chair." He commented lightly as Chase brought the chair around to the left side of Wilson's desk.

"Don't know that he'll notice." Chase dismissed off handedly as he waited for Wilson to place his injured ankle on the chair and the ice pack on top of it. Once Wilson was settled he handed the older doctor the images.

Wilson held up the images and studied them for a minute before he answered, "I can't be 100% positive. You'll need to do a biopsy to confirm."

Chase took the films back, "That's what I told House as well. He said that if that's the case to have you do it but I don't think that's necessary. One of us can do the biopsy and the testing. It's not like we don't know how. Well, I'm not sure about Masters."

"No, it's fine." Wilson responded, putting his hand up to silence the blond surgeon. "If he wants me to do it, I'll do it."

"Wilson-" Chase began ready to argue.

"It's fine Chase. I'll be down in about 5 minutes. Do you want me to just call you when I have the results?" Wilson offered, hoping Chase wouldn't want to accompany him.

"No," Chase replied, "I need to get back to testing the blood so I'll already be there."

Wilson raised an inquiring eyebrow but said nothing. "Ok," he answered, "let me finish with this and then I'll be down."

Chase nodded, understanding that he'd been dismissed and left. He wasn't happy with House for making Wilson do this procedure or performing the test but he didn't think he'd change House's mind by arguing either. He walked down to the nurse's station by the patient's room and alerted them to the biopsy and that they'd need the equipment ready. When he told them that Dr. Wilson would be doing the biopsy they gave him a glare, like he was the one who had ordered the injured man to do it. He ignored it and left to go to the lab.

* * *

Wilson made his way down to the patient room, preparing for the looks of disbelief when he told the person that he'd be the one doing the biopsy. He passed the nurse's station, ignoring the looks of sympathy they gave him and went in to the patient's room.

She was surprisingly not concerned with a doctor on crutches doing the biopsy, although he was fairly certain she was more concerned with the possibility of having cancer than an injured doctor cutting into her. He immediately leaned his crutches against the closest wall and limped back to the bed. He stood by the bed for a few minutes making sure he was steady before he began.

Though the procedure only takes about 5 minutes, it felt longer to his weak and hurting ankle. He was thankful when he handed the sample to one of the assisting nurses and asked her to take it to the lab and hand it to Dr. Chase. He was about to turn and get his crutches when he noticed Masters, House's newest duckling, standing next to him with his crutches in her hands. He gave her a grateful smile before leaving, allowing her to get the patient settled again while he went to the lab.

Wilson arrived in record time for a man on crutches to find Chase sitting on a stool apparently debating running the test himself. "Thanks for accepting that." He said, interrupting the younger doctor's musings, "I wouldn't have been able to carry the sample and crutch at the same time."

Chase smiled and reluctantly handed the sample over to Wilson who had made his way over to a testing area while he talked.

Wilson leaned his crutches up against a wall, out of the way, and began to prepare and study the sample. Once he was finished, he was able to view it on a monitor, making him able to sit down for a few minutes.

Chase watched Wilson work with a concealed concern. He knew Wilson shouldn't be trying to put weight on his ankle and yet, because House apparently hadn't noticed that his "best friend" was injured and had "ordered him to perform the biopsy and test", he was. He let out a small sigh of relief when he noticed Wilson pull up a stool and sit down, stretching out his leg before him. He stood up and walked over beside the oncologist, looking at the monitor as well.

"Hepatocellular Carcinoma." Wilson answered with a sigh. "It's cancer."

"Congratulations Wilson, she is now your patient!" A familiar and, for the moment, unwanted gravelly voice said behind the two doctors.

Wilson's body stiffened at the cheerfulness in House's voice but didn't acknowledge him. Chase turned around, crossing his arms.

House stood in the doorway, leaning on his cane and a smile on his face. "Chase, hand our patient over to Wilson." He instructed with a head nod towards his friend. "Hey Wilson, want to grab some lunch?"

"I thought you had lunch with Cuddy." Wilson answered, still facing the monitor.

"Well, we spent our lunch time together but we didn't eat if you know what I mean." House answered crudely but happily.

"Well," Wilson began as he spun around on the stool and stood, limping heavily over to where his crutches were propped up, "since it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I'm thinking it's a little late for lunch." Wilson saw House's eyes widen minutely in shock but knew he wouldn't say something.

"Ok," House answered in his normal "Housian" way, "how about dinner tonight? You bring the beer, I'll bring the food."

"Don't you have dinner with Cuddy and her mom tonight?" Wilson asked, his eyes slit in suspicion.

"Nope, I have a dinner to avoid with Cuddy and her mom." House answered like it should have been obvious.

Wilson snorted. It figures House would only want to spend time with him to get out of sharing a meal with Cuddy's mom. "Too bad. Find someone else to help you avoid it. I'm busy."

"Doing what? Sitting alone in the condo, cuddling Sarah?" House argued.

"Actually, I have a dinner date of my own." Wilson answered slyly.

"Eating an omelet while a diabetic cat eats a mouse doesn't count as a dinner date." House countered.

Wilson just rolled his eyes, let out a heavy sigh and then left, heading towards the sanctuary of his office.

"What happened to him?" House asked seriously, stopping Chase before he could leave.

"You should know since you're his best friend." Chase quipped dryly. "It's been all over the hospital for a few days how he slipped on the ice and badly sprained his ankle, damn near broke it." He answered bitterly. "I'm surprised Cuddy didn't tell you." He snarked before he left leaving a confused House in his wake.

* * *

**_AN: I apologize for the short chapter. I had this idea last night before I fell asleep after being annoyed with how little House seems to care about Wilson this season. Please let me know what you think!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

House walked in to Cuddy's office, flinging the door open almost angrily. He felt his stomach tighten at the sight of her but didn't give in to the feeling. "Did you know Wilson was injured?" He asked, always one in favor of being blunt.

"Of course. I know everything that goes on in this hospital." Cuddy answered regally while she kept on writing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, hoping to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"Why is it you're just now noticing after 3 days?" She countered flatly. He gave her a confused head cock and she continued. "I didn't tell you because you obviously don't care to notice anymore and I, for one, am not going to encourage an unhealthy obsession when I've finally gotten you to drop it." She explained with an eye roll and a sweet smile.

House stood in front of her desk, staring at her with a stony face and icy blue eyes. He felt like she had just kicked him in the leg but he wasn't going to show her that. Did she just admit that she thought him caring about Wilson was an unhealthy obsession? He shook his head mentally, deciding he'd sort through her words and meanings later, for now he just wanted out of her office.

House angrily limped into his office, not sparing a look at the ducklings while he headed towards his balcony door to spy on Wilson.

The oncologist sat behind his desk, his left ankle resting on a chair that looked suspiciously like one of the ones from the diagnostics department, and his hand rubbing his thigh. It was obvious he was in pain, not from the thigh massage alone but from the taught lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, the way his mouth was pencil thin and perhaps the most telling was the look of pain in his dark brown eyes that almost winded House.

House looked away, not wanting to see his friend like that and know that he was an even crappier friend for not noticing or caring. He wanted to go over and check and see if Wilson was ok but he knew it was too late for that and so ignored the younger doctor in the next office and focused on finding a new patient.

To no avail could they find one and so the ducklings were re-distributed to other departments while House was dragged down for clinic duty again since they were, unsurprisingly, one doctor short. He finished clinic duty in time to catch Cuddy leaving her office for the day and after a quick kiss and a promise to be there for dinner tonight he left the clinic and headed home to get a quick shower and change; putting Wilson out of his mind with practiced ease once again.

* * *

The next day brought feelings House very rarely felt, especially towards Wilson. While hanging around seemingly nonchalant, he had overheard how attentive Chase had been towards Wilson, even bringing one of the chairs from the conference room for him to use. He felt a deep jealousy towards the blond surgeon and was torn between wanting to thrash him within an inch of his life, telling him to stay away from Wilson because he didn't need another friend or thanking him for being the friend that House knew he hadn't been lately. He settled for being unnecessarily grumpy with Chase and commanding him to do not only Chase's own clinic hours but everyone else's as well, leaving Chase in the clinic for the entire day.

Chase didn't argue with House's punishment, merely stood rooted to the spot and examined House almost as closely as House examines others. He gave a small smile of triumph, which only caused House to grow more annoyed, and left whistling.

House, undeterred by the shocked looks from the rest, growled at them to go find him a case or be useful elsewhere and stormed into his office. He sat in his office, bouncing his Lacrosse ball off the wall thinking until he heard a gentle cough and looked up to find one of Wilson's patients in his office.

"Excuse me," She said, "but I think there's something wrong with Dr. Wilson. It looks like he's fainted but I can't seem to rouse him."

House raised a curious eyebrow before he got up and followed her to Wilson's office where the oncologist lay in a crumpled heap on the floor behind his desk. "Ok, I'll take care of him. Why don't you go to the oncology help desk and reschedule?" He suggested ignoring the woman completely while he checked Wilson's vitals. His heart rate seemed sluggish and irregular at first but eventually evened out at his normal pace.

Wilson's eyes fluttered and his head bobbed from side to side. He slowly opened his eyes and was surprised to find House standing over him. "What are you doing here?" He asked confused and annoyed.

"Your patient called me in here complaining about her doctor fainting." House answered grumpily. That wasn't the first thing he had expected Wilson to demand.

"Well, I'm fine so you can go now." Wilson retorted equally as grumpy as he eased himself to where he was sitting against the bookcase behind his desk, grimacing when he moved his left leg to straighten the ankle out.

"Uh-uh." House protested like a 5 year old. "See, you're heart rate was irregular and I want to know why."

"House." Wilson growled out in warning. "I am not a puzzle for you to solve. Go find a case of your own and quit trying to solve a problem that doesn't exist."

House stared at Wilson for awhile before he wordlessly turned on his heel and left, leaving Wilson on the floor where he sobbed quietly into his hands.

* * *

Weeks passed and Wilson still hadn't met with House for more than a consult or relationship advice. He could feel the tension in the air grow thicker with every passing moment that House spends with Cuddy and not him but doesn't comment on it; he truly does want his fried to be happy.

Once again he's called in for a consult and he obliges out of a habit that had been formed out of 15+ years of doing it. His ankle had healed well and though he no longer needed an aid to walk around, he did still have a slight limp that got better with every PT session.

He walked in to the conference room, ignoring the small gasps of shock, and picked up the MRI images that he was supposed to look at. Wilson didn't blame them for being shocked, the ducklings have been kept insanely busy by House and hadn't seen him in awhile and he looked like he had been in a bar fight a week ago; one fading black eye, a healing cut across his left cheekbone, fading bruises on his forearms and a wrist brace over his left hand. "It's not cancer." He confirmed before he handed the films back to House and started to walk away.

"What happened to you?" House called after him, mentally smacking himself in the forehead for the hint of concern that seeped into his voice. He looked at the ducklings who had been staring at him with just as much shock as they had Wilson. "Don't you all have something to do? Tests to run? Meals to eat? People to screw or screw over?" With that not-so-subtly hinted dismissal the team immediately left; their disparity to escape House's clutches overriding their curiosity about Wilson.

Wilson spun around, tempered annoyance radiating off him. "Really? You want to know now after almost a week of me walking around looking like a punching bag?" He challenged.

"I've had a case." House tried to excuse.

"Yeah, you've had a case. I remember there were other times that you had a case and yet you still had time to notice things. Guess that's too much to expect of you now." He responded bitterly before he walked out of House's office and into his own. He walked in to his own office and locked the door, unsurprised when he hears House behind him.

"What happened to you?" He asked again, concern and anger flowing from him and seeping into Wilson's pores.

"I got fainted again last week while walking to my car." Wilson told him, waiting for the mocking to start.

"Are you alright?" House asked unable to stop himself though he knew the words sounded ridiculous considering it had been a week and if something had gone wrong with Wilson, he would have been notified.

"I'm fine." Wilson responded, gingerly sitting into the chair behind his desk. He looked up and saw the doubt in House's eyes and decided a change of subject was in order. "How are things with you and Cuddy?"

"Fine." House answered a little too immediately for Wilson's liking.

"Ok." Wilson answered, dragging out the "O". "Is everything ok between you two?"

House gave a slight nod and said, "Fine. How often have you been fainting lately?"

"House!" Wilson groaned and whined at the same time. "If you're here for another puzzle to solve, get out. I don't need a doctor."

"Then what do you need, someone to follow you around with smelling salts and a fainting couch?" House joked, sneering.

Wilson gave a mirthless, cold laugh. "No, now get out."

"Tell me." House pushed, nudging Wilson in the ribs with his cane, earning a grimace and an arm wrap for his troubles. Cracked ribs he guessed.

"I need something you can't give me." Wilson answered with a grudging huff.

"An heir?" House guessed still joking. "Cuz, my I know this great hooker who would be happy to help."

"A friend!" Wilson exclaimed, his eyes going wide with shock. He hadn't meant to say that and the shock and hurt on his friend's face shot pain into his heart, the arrow hitting the bullseye with perfect aim.

House blinked the hurt out of his eyes, vowing to remain partial. He didn't blame Wilson for thinking he wasn't really his friend since he hadn't acted like one lately but that didn't make the declaration hurt less. "What makes you think I'm not your friend?"

"House, don't." Wilson begged, holding up a pleading hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did, the question is why." House answered undeterred.

Just then House's beeper shrilled, announcing that House's team needed him. "Go." Wilson told him subdued and resigned. "I'll always be here when you're done." He told the diagnostician, hoping he got the true message.

House looked at Wilson with regret in his eyes. He didn't want to leave but according to the message, his patient had at most a few hours to live if they didn't come up with an idea for what was wrong. He wished he could give Wilson a message of some kind to show the oncologist that he, too, would always be around but he just didn't have one. He nodded and walked out.

Wilson collapsed back into his chair, disappointment, anger, resentment and pain threatening to overwhelm him. He knew he had done what most thought impossible; he had hurt House on a level that no one would be able to see and he didn't know how to fix it. He gave a small sniffle, trying to clear his nose, and massaged his temples hoping to dispel the headache that had been building for the past 10 minutes. God he felt like crap! He was probably just coming down with the cold that had been passed around the hospital.

He ignored the way he was feeling and proceeded to fill out his paperwork so he could go home, take some cold medicine and pass out. Tomorrow would be another busy day and he could NOT afford to get sick!

* * *

**_AN: Sorry for the short chapters. I'm not totally sure this will be a long story in general. I will try if you would like but you have to tell me that you do so please hit the review button below and leave me a message! :o) _**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

A month had passed and House had never gone back for the confrontation. Truth be told, he really didn't want to hear what Wilson had to say; he already knew what it was. Cuddy had become unnecessarily needy and therefore avoiding Wilson hadn't been much of a problem until he needed a consult on a case and his lackeys had decided that HE needed to go ask Wilson.

House hopped over the dividing wall and stopped dead in his tracks. Through the glass door, he spotted a familiar Italian loafer lying just beyond the edge of the couch. House tried to walk casually into the office but upon seeing his friend he quickly threw the films onto the couch and, without thought to his leg, immediately knelt next to him, pulling out his phone and calling Chase. The line picked up and he didn't even give the Australian time to speak, "Get over here now!" He demanded while he listened for breathing sounds. He found none and noticed that Wilson's lips were becoming cyanotic.

Without hesitation, House began breathing for him. Thankfully he hadn't been lying there with out air for too long, his heart was still beating, if not erratically, so there wasn't much chance for brain damage.

Chase walked in on House breathing for Wilson and automatically left to get a gurney, a bag and the rest of his fellows. House wasn't going to be able to do that for long and Chase knew he was going to need help. While he was gone he received a message from Foreman with only one word in it: Epinephrine. He grabbed the correct dosage and left, running to the room not caring that he left everything else.

He arrived, throwing the dose to Foreman who immediately plunged it into Wilson's leg and sat back, waiting for it to take affect.

They didn't have to wait long. Wilson gasped and coughed, taking in as much air as his constricted lungs would allow. He looked around the room in confusion. He stopped on House's face which had gone deathly pale and his eyes were wide with terror. "What happened?" He asked.

"You stopped breathing you stubborn son of a bitch!" House yelled. "Going by your red nose, watery eyes and raw throat you either have a bad cold or, more than likely, pneumonia which in combination with your asthma almost killed you." He scolded angrily. "Why didn't you tell me you were that sick? You know what, never mind." He continued his tirade, looking at his team. "Get him down to admitting and get him a room. Sedate him if you have to."

"House-" Wilson began weakly.

"James, you're going to be admitted if I have to sedate and restrain you myself."

It wasn't the threat that made Wilson go along with the plan, not that he could have stopped it if he wanted to since he was half asleep by the time they brought the gurney. It was the use of his first name, something House NEVER does.

Chase and Foreman got him down to admitting and got him a room. They insisted on performing every single blood test that was available along with an MRI and X-Ray. He knew they were doing it on House's very insistent orders and it puzzled Wilson why House was being SO cautious. He consented to anything they wanted to do as long as they let him sleep, which through most of it they were able to do. Foreman wanted to get a scan of his brain, however and for that he needed to be awake. 3hrs 45minutes after House found him on the floor of his office, Wilson was settled in the bed in his own private room and sound asleep.

* * *

Once Chase and Foreman had wheeled Wilson out of the hall and down to admitting, House got up (with help from Taub) and went directly to Cuddy's office. He barged in, not caring if she was on the phone, in a meeting, or pissed at him in general over nothing which she seemed to be a lot lately.

"House!" She scolded, "You were supposed to be in the clinic 10 minutes ago."

"Don't care. I need a room." House responded shortly.

"And I need doctors who can cover their clinic hours as scheduled. Clinic, now." She responded, pointing her finger in the direction of the clinic which was right outside her door.

"Do you even want to know why I was late?" He asked curiously.

"I assume it was because you were hiding like you normally do." She deadpanned.

"Ever since I've been together with you, how often have I hid from clinic duty?" He countered. Upon noticing he'd gotten her attention he continued, "Exactly so wouldn't you think my not reporting on time would be a bit odd? OR do you not even care that your Head of Oncology stopped breathing?" He snarled.

"Wilson stopped breathing?" She asked shocked.

"Yeah. I found him on his office floor, lips turning cyanotic. We gave him a shot of epi and got him breathing again but I want him admitted until I know why he was passed out on his floor." House demanded.

"House," she began placating, "he's had a cold for the passed few weeks. I'm sure it just reacted with his asthma and he passed out from lack of oxygen." She purred silkily, seemingly trying to distract him. "I'm sure he's fine now." She finished, laying a hand on his arm.

He jerked away from her, confusion and scorn in his eyes. "Why is it you don't want me to actually care about my best friend?" He asked.

"Best friend, please." She scoffed. "You haven't even taken notice of him lately. He's been sick for over a month and I'm willing to bet you didn't notice."

The words hurt but they were true. "And whose fault is that?" He countered. "The last time I tried showing a bit of concern to Wilson, you advised against it. Dismissing it like it was a bad habit. Tell me, how is it that the Dean of Medicine doesn't even care about her Head of Oncology? Or is it more simply put that You don't care about Wilson who, last time I checked, was supposed to be your friend?"

"Huh, some friend." She responded gruffly, wincing when she realized she had said that out loud.

"What's that supposed to mean?" House asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Wilson came to me a few months ago, asking me what our plans were so that he could invite you to some Monster Truck show." She began slowly, disgust in her voice.

"Was this before or after the dinner with your mother?" House asked.

"That same day. I told him that you were busy that night and it would be best if he stopped trying to guilt you into spending time with him. He seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with you and I thought it best that, now that you were happy and in a relationship with me, he leave you alone and let you be happy for once." She defended proudly.

"Let me get this straight." House began angrily. "You told my best friend to back off completely and to quit guilting me into spending time with him even though you didn't ask me about it?"

"Yes, and apparently he listened. You two haven't been spending near as much time together as you were. I guess he decided to back off and let you be happy."

"You manipulative bitch!" House cursed at her. "Do you know how depressed he's been? The ONLY reason I stopped spending so much time with him was that every time I would, YOU would come up with some sort of crisis and ask me to be there for you or for Rachel OR you'd bribe me with the promise of sex which hasn't even been that good lately."

"Yes, and doesn't it mean something to you that you willingly did it even though you knew how upset he was? You were finally thinking of your own happiness and allowing yourself to enjoy this relationship now that you didn't have Wilson tagging along, lecturing you or throwing puppy dog eyes at you." She argued. "He fit you before because you both were pathetic on your own but now that you have a working relationship and are doing your job, he's pathetic on his own."

House visibly straightened at that and Cuddy could swear the air conditioning had kicked in and been set for 50. House limped up to her, fury in his eyes, "You do not ever call Wilson pathetic." He growled. "And you will never dictate my friendship with him again."

"Oh come on!" Cuddy argued, unable to let go. "I did you a favor! Can't you see how happy you are now that he's not around, bringing you down? He's depressed enough for the both of you, don't let him drag you down to."

House sneered at her in disgust and walked out.

* * *

House headed towards Wilson's room, pulling up a chair and sitting by his bedside waiting for him to wake up. Even without the blood tests, Chase and Foreman had confirmed pneumonia but they also found the reason for his random fainting spells.

Wilson let out a slight groan and tilted his head towards his left, eyes fluttering open and focusing on House. "Hey." He greeted sleepily.

"Hey yourself." House greeted in return. "Chase and Foreman confirmed my theory of pneumonia." He informed the weak and very sick oncologist. "You'll be staying here for awhile longer."

"For pneumonia? House, you and I both know that that's not a reason to be hospitalized." Wilson remarked suspiciously.

"No, it's not but a dilated cardiomyopathy is." House answered.

Wilson's mouth dropped open, rather unattractively. "What are you talking about? Nothing's wrong with my heart."

"On the contrary my dear Wilson," House began with an impressive English accent, "have you been having heart palpitations? Chest pain? Dizziness?" He asked.

"Yeah but they're just from the pneumonia." Wilson answered wincing at admitting that he knew he had pneumonia.

"Jaqcues!" House exclaimed in a French accent, "So you knew you were sick then and ignored it in favor of holing up in your office? Makes sense, in the sense that you're an idiot!"

"House-" Wilson grumbled, trying to breathe in deeply to respond and bringing on a coughing fit.

House stood up and helped raise Wilson a little, making it easier for him to draw in air. Once Wilson had stopped coughing, House lowered the wheezing oncologist back down to the bed. "Why didn't you come get me when you couldn't breathe?" He asked earnestly.

"I didn't think you'd actually care." Wilson offered with a shrug. "I was on my way to the clinic for an albuterol treatment when I must have passed out."

"What time was this?" House asked.

"I don't know, around 430 I guess."

"You didn't pass out, you fainted again; fine distinction. I didn't find you until 6 and your lips were just beginning to turn blue."

"Oh." Wilson answered quietly, yawning.

"Go to sleep. We'll talk more when you wake up again." House coached him while he lay another blanket over his slightly shivering friend.

"You don't have to sit there you know?" Wilson offered sleepily. "It can't be good on your leg."

"Shut up and go to sleep." House dismissed, pretending to focus on his patient's file which lay before him on his lap. He smiled when he heard Wilson snore and turned down the lights. He silently stood watch over his friend, not daring to leave.

* * *

**_AN: Once again, I'm sorry it's so short. For some odd reason I can't seem to get more to come out per chapter. _**

**_AN2: I got the idea for the pneumonia and cardiomyopathy from my father who died from pneumonia that didn't mix well with his asthma and also had an enlarged heart. :o) Hope you liked it despite the shortness!  
_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

House wasn't aware he had fallen asleep until he heard the screech of the heart monitor at 8a the next morning, alerting him that something was wrong with its subject's heart; Wilson's heart rate was fast and irregular. House was on his feet immediately, looking for the defibrillator to shock Wilson's heart back in rhythm. Wilson's eyes were open, looking around panicked as he tried to breathe in normally but the tightness in his chest wasn't allowing for a deep breath.

A nurse came running in just as House had charged the paddles and placed lube on them to keep the charge from burning Wilson. House didn't waste another minute and placed one paddle in the middle of the Wilson's rib cage and the other one below the right side of Wilson's clavicle. He pressed the buttons on the paddle and shot electricity from one paddle, through Wilson's body to the other one causing his heart to skip a beat and regularize itself, to the other.

Wilson grimaced and gasped as he felt air rush to his lungs and pain shoot through his chest. "Thanks." He panted tiredly at House before he closed his eyes and fell asleep; the Arrhythmia having taken a lot of what little energy he'd had.

House watched him fall asleep, grateful that he had been there to help rather than hearing it from a random nurse. Normally a person doesn't like to witness such things, and for House it doesn't ring any less true when it comes to Wilson, but he'd rather be there and know EXACTLY what happened rather than to harass it out of a nurse and/or read the chart.

Cuddy walked in, her heels _click clacking_ away, just as he was about to sit down. Instinctively he put his body between her and Wilson's bed knowing that if she really wanted to, he couldn't stop her from seeing or touching Wilson but he hoped that the action told her what he hadn't fully been able to say earlier: _Stay away from him_

"How's he doing?" She asked sounding concerned.

House didn't buy it, "Is it Cuddy the Dean of Medicine talking or Cuddy the Supposed Friend talking?" He snarked.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow but didn't challenge his tone. "Both." She answered truthfully. She had come to check on Wilson, genuinely concerned for his well being but also to determine how long those of his staff would have to cover for him.

"He's fine. Still sick and still having heart issues." House answered shortly, not wanting to give more information than she needed. "As his doctor I cannot say HOW long it will be until he's ready to resume work but I wouldn't advise it for another 3 weeks."

"3 weeks? Doesn't that seem a little extreme for pneumonia?" She asked shocked at his estimate.

"Nope." House replied succinctly. "If it was just pneumonia, I'd only recommend 1-2 but he's also having heart issues which need to be controlled before I want him returning. He just had an arrhythmia; we had to shock his heart back into rhythm."

"I don't understand. Isn't he on beta blockers, ace inhibitors and medication to help with that?"

"Yes he is but his body is weak and still trying to fight the pneumonia which is putting quite a strain on his heart." House answered in a lecturing tone. "Aren't you a doctor? Shouldn't you know this?"

"House, you know very well that I AM a doctor but I am not up to speed on Wilson's condition. THAT I'm leaving to you." She retorted angrily.

"Why would you be? You care about Wilson as much as you care about a bug that you crush beneath your shoe." House countered with an angry dismissal of his hand. "You should leave. I'm sure you have other important administrative duties to attend to rather than hanging out here."

"Actually that brings me to my other reason for coming. You have clinic duty. Don't think that just because he's in the hospital that you can skip it." She told him, scorn evident in her voice while she pointed to and talked about Wilson.

"Oh my god! Seriously?" He asked with mock shock in his voice. "Because I thought that that's exactly what happens when a close and personal friend is admitted to the hospital or does that only count when I'm treating your mom?" House growled throwing the example back in her face.

She flinched but kept her "Administrative Face" on. "That was different. That was my mother while he" she pointed towards Wilson's bed angrily, "is just a friend."

"Apparently not yours." Came a weak but obviously hurt reply behind House. They both spun around to find Wilson awake, having heard almost their entire conversation. "I realized that you didn't like me spending time with him when it came to your time with him but I didn't realize that you just didn't like me." He spoke in shallow breaths, eyes echoing the betrayal that was heard in his voice.

"Wilson," Cuddy began.

"Get out." He told her pitifully. "You've done your duty; stopped by to make sure your sick doctor will be back to work soon and fake concern. Tell Brown that I should be back in a couple-" he received a glare from House, "ok 3 weeks. He'll only need to fill in until then and if I can" he returned the glare at House, "come back early I will."

"How are you-" She began again, clearly not taking the hint.

"Get out!" He told her again more forcefully than a man weak from pneumonia should be able to. He pushed himself upright to seem stronger than he actually felt, hoping it would help drive his point home.

"I think you should go." A familiar Australian voice said behind her.

"You shut up." She growled at Chase. "I'm the Dean of this hospital; you can't drive me out of a patient's room." She declared.

"Actually I can." Chase countered, unphased by her demeanor and attitude. "You see, while Dr. House is acting as the primary physician," he started with a pointed look at House, "I actually AM his physician and our patients have a right to keep ANYONE out of their room that they should choose and the physician has a right to keep ANYONE out of the patient's room if it messes with their patient's health." He explained putting extra emphasis on the word "Anyone". "And since Wilson's started trying to get you out, his heart rate has been climbing and slowly becoming irregular which, as a doctor you should know, is dangerous for his health especially in his weakened state." He finished with an apologetic look towards Wilson for calling him weak. Chase realized that it was the truth and it was due to the pneumonia but it didn't make calling the man that he greatly respected weak any better.

At Chase's words, House focused on Wilson's heart monitor and did notice that his heart rate WAS in fact climbing and becoming irregular. "Get out." He growled at her as he began to try to calm Wilson down and get him settled back on the bed. The alarm began to shrill, warning them all.

"Dr. Chase?" A security guard, who had been standing outside the room, called. "Is everything ok?"

"No." Chase answered seriously. "Please escort Dr. Cuddy out of here and be warned that she is not wanted, or needed, in this room again."

The guard, who had been working there long enough to know that these 4 were generally friendly, looked shocked at Chase's statement but having excellent training pounded into him, often by Cuddy herself, escorted an outraged and shocked Cuddy out of the room.

"Thanks," Wilson panted, wheezing painfully, "Chase."

Chase was by his side immediately, not sparing a look at House. "No problem, but you need to calm down." He said, looking at House and seeing nothing but concern in his face and eyes finished, "Focus on House. Mimic his breathing." He instructed calmly, placing a grounding but gentle hand on Wilson's arm.

Wilson turned his head towards House, trying to focus on copying his breathing pattern rather than the constricting pain in his chest while his heart tried to pound itself out of it. After several agonizing minutes, he managed to get his breathing under control (well as under control as one with asthma and a persistent case of pneumonia can) and got his heart rate to slow down. With each slowing beat his heart began to regulate its rhythm back to normal.

"That's better." Chase said infinitely more cheerful. "Now, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

Wilson shook his head, "No, I'm good. Thanks Chase, for everything."

Chase studied Wilson for a moment, then glanced at House through his eyelashes before he gave a small nod, a smile and headed towards the door. "If you need anything let House or me know. Alright?" He asked pointedly.

"Yeah, thanks again." Wilson responded quietly.

Once Chase left House pulled up a chair and sat down. "How are you really?" He asked skeptically.

"I'm fine House, really." Wilson placated. "My chest feels like it has a corset strapped around it and an elephant sitting on top and it aches as does the rest of me but that's nothing new." He explained after receiving a "tell me" glare from House.

House studied him for a moment and nodded. "Fine, but let me know if it gets worse. I'm good with drugs." He quipped smiling.

"House, everyone knows you're good with drugs; be it Vicodin, Morphine or Ibuprofen." Wilson replied with a weak chuckle, his eyelids slowly drooping.

"Get some rest." House replied softly.

Wilson reached out and grabbed House's hand, inwardly surprised when the older man didn't pull away. "You don't have to stay here. I will be fine, I promise. Go get some lunch and sleep; you look like hell."

"Pfft, says the man lying in the hospital bed looking whiter than a vampire." House scoffed.

"Go." Wilson told him softly yet somehow managing to make it demand. "I've got Chase looking after me and we both know that you trust him most of the ducklings and for a good reason; he's a great doctor. I'll be fine."

House wanted to object and stay by his friend's side but he really could use something to eat, a shower and a night's rest. "Fine." He said, pulling his hand away and walking out of the room. He walked over to Chase who seemed to be standing guard over Wilson's room from the nurse's station. "Page me if there's any change." He instructed before he walked away.

* * *

House went to his office, collapsing into his recliner pondering whether to run home and grab clothes or just change into scrubs after his shower. Usually he wasn't a stickler for hygiene but he just wanted to wash the stink of this crappy day off him. He decided his first order of business would be the cafeteria; no sense in trying to shower if he passes out because his blood sugar bottomed out. Never having been one for breakfasts unless someone else was buying, he had skipped breakfast and the same with lunch for the same reason and was too busy for dinner; leaving him not having eaten for over 24 hours.

He limped tiredly down to the cafeteria, picking up a sandwich, chips and a soda before he went back to his office and ate; ignoring the shocked looks from Foreman, Masters and Taub. He groaned when his office door opened, admitting an angry Cuddy. "What?" He demanded.

"You were supposed to be in the clinic an hour ago, or did you forget me telling you that while you were busy conspiring with Wilson to get me permanently kicked out of his room?" She retorted sarcastically.

House let out a long suffering sigh, "What is it with you and jealousy over Wilson?" He asked.

"I am NOT jealous of Wilson. I have a much better life than he does!" She scoffed. "Now get down to the clinic and sending one of your groupies" she pointed towards the conference room "doesn't count."

House felt his heart harden towards her. How did he knot know that she could be this cold and heartless? "You may think you have a better life but he has one thing you will never have again."

"Oh really, and what is that? 3 divorces on his record?" She scoffed.

"Me." House replied as he walked out of the room, bumping into her shoulder hard and pushing her against the glass wall that separated his office from the conference room. "Oops, sorry." He apologized rather unapologetically before he left for the clinic.

* * *

Cuddy stormed out of House's office, barely able to keep her rage in check. Couldn't he see that she had done all that for his own good? What did he mean that Wilson had him and she didn't when SHE was the one who had had him for the past year? She raged in her head, not at all connecting that those thoughts WERE irrational and not at all like her.

She walked straight into Wilson's room, able to sneak by due to shift change. "We need to talk." She said coolly, drawing the sick man's attention to her face which was cold with fury. She closed the door, locking it, and drew the blinds. "It seems that no matter what I do, you still manage to slither back into House's life. I think that for all of our sakes, you should stop."

Wilson looked up at her in tired confusion. "Cuddy, I didn't try to get back in his life." He told her, studying her with the eye of a doctor. "Have you been feeling alright?" He asked amazingly worried about her.

"I'm fine." She replied coldly grabbing his hand and slowly bending the fingers back, one at a time. She waited until the first one popped, the sickening sound confirming that it was broken, before she spoke despite his cry of pain. "I want you to leave House and I alone. Don't talk to him, don't let him talk to you. Tell him to come back to me." She warned, heading for the next finger.

"Cuddy," He panted, his voice strained with pain, "this isn't you. Something is SERIOUSLY wrong with you." He broke off, giving a strangled cry of pain again as another finger was broken.

"What the hell?" Chase exclaimed, key to the room in his hand, as he ran over grabbing Cuddy and ripping her away from Wilson's side. Cuddy began to struggle, kicking and screaming with outrage and psychosis.

"Chase!" Wilson panted, clenching his teeth in pain and trying to control his ragged breathing. "Get her sedated, restrained and in the MRI." He told the other doctor. "I think she may have a tumor in her brain."

Chase almost dropped Cuddy at that statement but he recovered quickly and held firm, yelling for a nurse to come and help. The nurse ran in quickly, grabbing a dose of Diazepam and administering it quickly. Two doctors came in, pushing a gurney with restraints and took Cuddy from Chase, placing her on the gurney and strapping her in. Chase gave the orders that Wilson gave him and had them take her up to get an MRI scan of her brain and told them to page Foreman while they headed there. They nodded, looking confused, and left.

With that taken care of Chase quickly paged House with Wilson's room number and turned his attention to Wilson's hand and his broken fingers. He instructed the nurse to grab a dose of pain medicine that wouldn't react with the medicine he was already on but strong enough to block the pain of examining and splinting them.

Just as he finished splinting the fingers and checking Wilson's vitals, House stormed in furious. "What the hell happened?" He demanded of Chase, whose left eye had become dark with a forming bruise and slightly swollen. "You were supposed to keep her out here!"

"House!" Wilson yelled grabbing House's attention. "It's not his fault. She knows everyone's schedules like the back of her hand; if she wanted to, she certainly could get in with ease. Besides, I don't think it's her fault."

"How is it not her fault?" House demanded of his friend, carefully avoiding looking at the injured hand. "Was it someone else who came in and broke your fingers? Or maybe she was under the Imperious Curse?"

"Since when do you read Harry Potter?" Wilson asked confused.

"Never mind about my references, I want to know WHY you think it wasn't her fault." House growled. "And how is it you're so calm about this?"

"I gave him a small sedative; not enough to knock him out but enough to calm him down and keep his heart rate in check." Chase explained, standing calmly to the side. Inwardly he was just as furious with himself for letting Cuddy slip by as House was but he wasn't going to show that to Wilson.

House turned to him, scanned him and nodded. "Why don't you go get yourself checked out, we'll be fine." He said surprising all in the room with the hint of concern that came through his voice.

"Have you noticed if Cuddy's been extra clumsy lately or changed in any way?" Wilson asked once Chase and the nurses had left, leaving he and House alone.

House looked at him puzzled for a moment before he took a moment and really thought about it; his brain constantly trying to filter through the questions and get to what Wilson really meant. "No," he said after putting the puzzle together, "you think Cuddy has a tumor in her brain don't you?"

Wilson nodded weakly, "Yes. I didn't notice her personality changes at first because I hadn't been spending that much time with her and I assumed you'd have said something but the more I thought about it; your recent complaints about her erratic behavior (fighting over little things), the 180 in her personality, the feelings she actually expressed towards me. It didn't add up." He explained, pausing for a deep, wheezing breath.

"I get it Wilson, just stop talking for awhile." House told him, hating to see his friend suffer.

"Are you ok?" Wilson wheezed concerned about his friend and how he was taking this.

Before House could answer Foreman walked in, a look of incredulity on his face. "How did you know?" He asked Wilson, not even acknowledging that House was in the room.

"It's what I'm paid to look for." Wilson dismissed with a shoulder shrug.

"She has a tumor in her brain." Foreman told House. "It's pressing on her Prefrontal Cortex which explains why she's been acting so crazy."

"Let me see the scans." Wilson demanded gently while House just stood there trying to absorb what he had been told. Foreman handed the scan images over and Wilson raised them to the light, using his uninjured hand. "It's operable. Is the surgery scheduled?"

"Not yet. That's why I'm here." He added looking at House. "She put you as her primary physician; I need your approval to perform the surgery."

House nodded, holding out his hand for the forms which he signed readily and handed back to Foreman. "We'll have her in surgery within the hour." Foreman told them before he walked out.

* * *

**_AN: I apologize if there are any medical mistakes. I did my best with help from google and webmd. _**

**_AN2: Also, I apologize for the curve ball about Cuddy. It occurred to me that I had been writing her very OOC and I wanted to give a reason as to why. Hope is satisfied everyone's medical mystery curiosity! _**

**_Please review and tell me what you think!  
_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

House and Wilson sat in Wilson's hospital room in silence; the sounds of the heart monitor and Wilson's wheezing breaths the only sounds in the room. Wilson kept drifting in and out of consciousness so he didn't know how long it had been silent but he finally asked the question he had been holding in since the last time he had asked. "Are you alright?" He wheezed.

"Fine." House answered a little too quickly for Wilson's liking. They sat in more comfortable silence for another few minutes before House spoke again. "I'm planning on leaving her." He whispered.

"What?" Wilson asked shocked by the revelation though not unhappy about it. "Why?"

"Because, if I was blind to the fact that my girlfriend had a tumor growing in her head, it just might be a sign that I didn't really care enough to look OR that I have become a crappier doctor; neither of which are good options." House answered with his usual hint of sarcasm. "And because being with her wasn't worth losing you." He admitted so quietly Wilson wasn't sure he had heard it until House's deep and soul-bearing ocean blue eyes met Wilson's chocolate brown, almost pulling him under with their intensity and emotion.

"House," Wilson began, "you know that you won't lose me, right?" He asked, grabbing House's hand again, surprise showing on his face when his was lightly squeezed in return.

"I know but I could have and all because I was more interested in sex with Cuddy and let me tell you, it hasn't been worth it lately." House answered, throwing in a light joke though it was the truth as well.

"Well, I think we just found the reason why things have been so crappy between the two of you." Wilson responded, not bothering to let go of House's hand. He had only recently become aware of just HOW much House means to him but he wasn't going to say anything for fear of ruining what little friendship they had left.

"It started almost immediately. I mean, granted the sex was amazing but from the start she started nit-picking and we both started making excuses for our actions which should have told us something then. Then, when you got Sarah and I was worried about you and doing the intervention, she kept trying to get me to leave you alone; stop worrying about you and telling me it was a bad habit that I needed to break." House told him quietly. "Speaking of which, where is Sarah? Shouldn't someone be going over to the condo to take care of her?"

"I had to give her away. I have been working more and more hours and couldn't take care of her." Wilson told him. "I'm sure she was just trying to help and she probably just meant the degree of worry you were showing." Wilson answered his brow furrowing in pain. His chest had begun to tighten and it ached fiercely. He raised his hand to rub it, forgetting that it was his injured hand and grimaced when the mindless action sent a wave of pain through his wrist.

"Wilson?" House asked concerned about his friend's vitals.

Wilson held onto House's hand and gave it a gentle but reassuring squeeze. "I'm ok." He wheezed.

"No you're not, you're having trouble breathing." House countered noticing the hypoxic look of his friend. He grabbed his stethoscope and listened to his friend's lungs, frowning when there was hardly any air getting to them. He stood up and grabbed a dose of epi and administered it into Wilson's IV, holding Wilson's hand and waiting until it took effect.

Wilson took in an easy breath, "Thanks." He said with another squeeze of House's hand.

House nodded, "I should let you rest; you've had quite a busy day."

"K." Wilson conceded with a weary sigh. "Are you going to hang out or do you need to be anywhere?"

"The only place I'm needed is right here." House told him.

Wilson gave a sleepy smile. "Good." He said as his eyes closed. "I love you House." He confessed just before he fell asleep.

* * *

House sat in a hard hospital chair next to Wilson's bed, staring at him and thinking. Wilson had told him that he loved him but was it just a drugged delusion or a true confession? House rationally knew that the drugged delusion was the least likely because while Wilson WAS drugged, he wasn't drugged with anything that would cause hallucinations or delusions. Meaning that Wilson really did love him but how? Like a brother? A friend? Or a Lover?

He stared down at the sleeping oncologist rediscovering his friend's handsome features. The high cheekbones that helped give him dimples when he smiled or pulled his mouth down to the corners when he was annoyed with House. The beautiful chocolate brown eyes that manage to say SO much while the man himself doesn't actually say anything; they pull you in to a pool filled with emotion, the most prominent of which is always: Love. The slender hands that worked hard to provide comfort to dying people though there's nothing Wilson can actually do to cure them most of the time. The prominent collar bone, that sticks out begging to be kissed and nibbled.

Woah! When had he fallen in love with his best friend?

* * *

Chase stood outside Wilson's room at the nurse's station, left eye bruised and still swollen but not as much so since he'd had it iced in the diagnostic's conference room, relaying what had happened with no little guilt for letting it happen. He realized that it wasn't his job to stand guard over Wilson but he had told House that he would. It figures the moment he had to take a break Cuddy would sneak in and attack the oncologist.

He watched House and Wilson interact through the glass, noticing they body language though strained was also relaxed and close. He didn't miss that they were holding hands or the way his former boss picked up immediately on Wilson's breathing or the way his face went from adoration (though he'd never admit that's what it was) to complete shock just before Wilson fell asleep.

He watched more as House's face went from shock to contemplation as he stared at Wilson. He watched the diagnostician's eyes roam over Wilson's face and body, gently running his fingers over Wilson's clavicle and hand probably without realizing he had done so. He watched again as House's face contorted from unrestrained love to shock once again. He turned around to leave, satisfied that House and Wilson had finally come to the same conclusion that he, and almost every member of the hospital, had come to YEARS ago. They Loved Each Other.

* * *

House sat down, unsure of what to do or how to approach the subject with Wilson. He was pretty sure that Wilson felt the same, especially given his earlier statement, but he also didn't want to rush into anything. Rushing in was usually his style but it wasn't Wilson's; the oncologist liked to think things over before he jumped in and House knew it wouldn't be any different this time around.

He felt a pang of guilt about leaving Cuddy while she's sick but the way she had been acting, while no where near her fault, had put him off her and her feelings and he could barely stand to be around her right now. He knew that if Wilson was healthy enough he WOULD be there for her even though she broke two of his fingers and intended on doing more. Wilson understood cancer better than House because it was his specialty and, given that and his friendship with House over the years, he was also more prone to forgiveness. He'd already asserted himself as Cuddy's primary oncologist, though the decision would ultimately rest with her when she woke up after surgery, since they'd have to perform tests to determine if the cancer had started in her brain or a metastasized from another area.

Normally House would NOT let Wilson take Cuddy's case, given how sick he was but he knew that not letting him take it would only stress him out more and, in turn, stress his heart; something Wilson did not need right now.

House got up to walk around and stretch his leg. If he sat for too long it would tighten and send spasms throughout the ruined muscle the entire night. On his 3rd lap around the room the door opened to reveal Foreman. House checked the time on the wall above the door; it had been almost 3 hours since Foreman had left! Where had the time gone?

"We successfully removed the tumor." He said in his best doctor voice even though he really didn't need to because it was House he was talking to. "We'll be doing a biopsy to confirm whether it's malignant or benign. I figure Wilson will want his own department to handle the case and therefore plan on no further testing from our end."

House nodded at Foreman's assumption. "Wilson will be the oncologist handling her case."

"House, the man can't stay awake for more than 20 minutes without needing a 4 hour nap and either a nebulizer, epinephrine, or a sedative so his heart rate doesn't get too high. He can't be the oncologist in charge of her case." Foreman argued rather condescendingly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Foreman." Wilson answered Foreman's challenge groggily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for you to hear that but it's true." The neurologist argued.

"If you didn't want me to hear it, you wouldn't be in my room arguing with House." Wilson reasoned, not at all angry by the observation. "However, I believe House is right. I will be the doctor in charge of her case. I will contact Brown and inform him of the situation and have her prepped for tests when she's able. I expect you two to keep each other updated; she'll need the best neurologist as well as an oncologist and you're the best."

House let a smirk cross his face. Only Wilson can reprimand, take charge and compliment a person with one speech. He walked over to Wilson's bed and helped raise it knowing it's best for breathing if the person is upright and not lying down.

Foreman studied Wilson before he caved. "Fine. Do you want to see a copy of her medical records and patient file?"

"Yeah, thanks." Wilson replied. He was pleased that he didn't feel nearly as tired as he had felt earlier though he could still tell that he was weak.

When Foreman left House walked up to Wilson and sat on the bed by his knees. He unconsciously reached up a hand and stroked Wilson's cheek. "I'm not going to get you to rest for 3 weeks am I?"

Wilson smiled; wisely saying nothing about the hand on his cheek but instead lifted up his good hand, taking House's in it, gave it a squeeze and began rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "Nope." He answered simply. "Not while Cuddy is my patient and until she says otherwise, she is MY patient." He said determinedly.

"Ok, but don't be surprised to find me dogging your every step." House told him resignedly.

They sat in silence until Wilson spoke, "So, should we talk about this or just go with it?"

House smiled knowing exactly what Wilson was referring to. "I say just go with it but I'm assuming YOU'LL want to talk about it."

"Actually, no. I'm ok with not discussing it right now. Eventually, yes but not right now. Let's just enjoy it and see where it leads."

House put a hand on Wilson's forehead, the comical gesture ruined by the fact that Wilson was actually sick. "I think the pneumonia or cardiomyopathy has gotten to your brain." He joked.

Wilson laughed a wheezy laugh though, House was pleased to notice, not as wheezy as earlier. "Nope. Just grateful to have you here." He answered cheesily romantic.

"God," House replied, rolling his eyes, "could you GET any cheesier?"

"Yea actually." Wilson answered almost immediately, an eye crinkling, dimple making smile on his face.

* * *

**_AN: Sorry about the short chapter but I thought it was time for a bit of fluff! Hope it still flows well. _**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Dr. Lisa Cuddy woke to a white ceiling, hard bed and the smell of disinfectant. She groggily opened her eyes and looked around, wondering why she was in the hospital, her hospital. Then it all came back to her like a bad dream. God, she couldn't believe what she had been doing!

"Good Morning Dr. Cuddy." Foreman responded with an insincere smile and unnaturally cheery voice. It didn't bother her that he was being insincere, that was just Foreman. "How are you feeling?" He asked while checking her neurological responses.

"Uh, fine." She answered, honestly unsure how she was feeling. "A little groggy." She added for lack of anything else better to say.

"That's to be expected." Foreman answered nonchalantly. "We found a tumor on your Prefrontal Cortex, putting pressure on your brain and altering your personality. The bigger it grew, the more it altered." He explained while checking and writing in her chart.

She moved to sit up but then realized that her wrists and ankles were strapped in restraints. "Why am I restrained?"

Foreman observed her for a moment, deciding whether or not he should give her the truth, before he answered. "You were having a psychotic break. We had to bring you in here in restraints and thought it best to keep you there and make sure you were you before we released you." He answered unflinchingly.

Cuddy listened to what she was being told, connecting the bad dreams with the events that had passed. She let out a gasp, instinctively trying to bring her hand to her mouth before the restraints stopped her. "Oh my god." She said, capturing Foreman's attention and interest. "Is Wilson alright?" She asked remembering all that she had done to him, not only physically but emotionally as well.

"He'll be fine." Foreman responded with a surprisingly assuring smile while he undid her restraints. "He's actually been the one handling your care. Well, besides me. He insists on doing so until you say otherwise." He said resignedly. Apparently he didn't think it was a good idea.

"You don't think he should?" She asked interested in his opinion, knowing he'd give her an unbiased one. She raised the head of her bed up so she wasn't lying flat on her back.

"No." He said simply. "I realize and admit that he is one of the best Oncologist's in Princeton, possibly in the country but he is sick as well and weak. He shouldn't be doing anything but letting the medicine do its job and his staff do its." Foreman didn't actually know if Wilson was still weak since he hadn't checked on him lately but he assumed he was.

She listened attentively, nodding her head in understanding. Of course she knew that Wilson was ill (barely able to breathe last she heard) but she was also selfish and wanted the best handling her case. "What does House think? And where is he?" She asked though not really expecting an answer to the latter; she knew she had ruined any chance of him choosing her over Wilson, not that she actually wanted him to have to choose.

"House is going along with it claiming that it would stress Wilson's heart too much not to be a part of the case." He responded, doubt in his voice.

"You don't agree." She said, her voice flat and emotionless. It was a statement of fact. She vaguely remembered House mentioning Wilson having heart problems but she didn't really ask the details. Her brain quickly ran through the options, knowing that House was probably right but not understanding why he was giving in so easily just because it was Wilson. The rate he went to have the oncologist admitted suggests that he's seriously worried about Wilson's health and therefore wouldn't normally back down on letting Wilson NOT work for weeks. She also had her own reservations with Wilson treating her. She felt more guilty about what she did to Wilson than anything she could remember (and that included crippling the young man who fixed her roof 6 years ago!) because he was not only her friend but a great person and House's friend as well. She wanted to make sure he actually WANTED to treat her instead of feeling like he had to for reasons of his own. "I'd like to talk to Wilson or House." She said realizing that the request to speak to Wilson alone would be rebuked for several reasons but thinking if she added House it would actually happen.

Foreman hesitated, pondering how to answer her request. "Why don't you rest for a little while longer?" He suggested, putting her chart back down at the bottom of her bed. "I'll see what I can work out."

Cuddy felt her heart sink. Foreman's response meant that either House didn't want anything to do with her OR he didn't want to leave Wilson's side. She felt her heart squeeze painfully at either option though she wouldn't admit it to the second. It made sense for him to be glued to his best friend's side. House loses contact with him (per her request/demand) and he gets injured and then seriously ill; it's enough to scare anyone, including House.

She didn't think that she would be able to speak to Wilson unless she was the one who went to him. He was very very weak the last time she saw him, barely able to move or breathe, and she didn't think that that would change any time soon. She also knew that security wouldn't allow her in a room with him, let alone House. He had been very protective of Wilson when she had been there earlier and it has more than likely increased by a factor of a Mole since then. Cuddy laughed at herself in her head for using the Mole comparison. How did she remember these things from chemistry?

She looked up to realize that Foreman had been watching her either for a nod of consent or for her reaction. She gave him a smile. "I think that sounds like a good idea." She conceded, not realizing just how tired she felt. Her mind was becoming fuzzy and clouded; no doubt from the pain killers that were coursing through her IV. "When will I be able to get up and move around?"

"Let's just take it one day at a time and see how you feel." Foreman suggested not unkindly before he walked out leaving Cuddy to drift off to a deep and pain-free sleep.

* * *

Foreman walked into Wilson's room, not at all surprised to find House holding Wilson's hand while taking a nap. Chase had told him what he had seen and Foreman had grudgingly paid him the $100 he owed from the bet.

He walked up to Wilson's bed and checked his chart. Wilson's breathing had become easier and he no longer needed a nebulizer treatment or a shot of epi every other time he was awake. He seemed to be gaining some strength back as well, being able to eat an entire cup of broth as well as stay awake for an hour at a time. ALL of which was good and more than likely meant that he'd be willing to try to see Cuddy at her request. _Damn!_ Foreman thought. He'd wanted to keep the oncologist away from Cuddy as long as possible; not for his protection though since he didn't fear Cuddy trying to hurt him again but for House's mood. Any time House was in a good mood made the rest of their lives easier.

Wilson stirred, having sensed someone was there and sleepily opened his eyes. The head of his bed had been raised so he could breathe easier and therefore he was able to see Foreman clearly. "Hey." He greeted, mentally shaking the shroud of fog that occupied his brain. "Do you need something?" He asked quietly, not wanting to wake House.

"Yeah but I should wake House first though so I don't have to repeat everything twice." Foreman replied while he grabbed House's cane and poked him. "Better to be at a safe distance when poking a sleeping bear" he thought. House stirred, glaring at the intruder. "Cuddy woke." Foreman said.

"Is that all, I'm going back to sleep?" He said sleepily and grumpily.

"She wants to see you or Wilson." Foreman told him persistently knowing it would capture the groggy diagnostician's attention.

It didn't disappoint; House's head snapped up so fast Foreman thought he gave himself whiplash, his eyes focusing on Foreman with an icy glare. "What did you tell her?"

"I suggested that she get some more rest and that I'd see what I could do." Foreman admitted plainly.

"Good." House told him. "When she wakes again, tell her that her request has been denied." He growled.

"House," Wilson argued, "if she wants to see me, she should be allowed. I am her doctor."

"You are in no shape to be going anywhere and neither is she." House argued back, pointing his finger gently in Wilson's chest.

"Actually, it might do him good to get out of bed and take a ride around the hospital in a wheelchair." Foreman replied. While he didn't want to encourage Wilson, the man did have a point. If Cuddy wanted to speak to her doctor about her case, she should be allowed and Wilson was healthy enough to get around in a wheelchair, providing he kept the visit short.

House glared at Foreman. "You aren't his doctor." He warned.

"No, but I am." Chase said, coming in. He had been standing in the doorway listening to the entire conversation.

"I didn't know wombats were known for their eavesdropping." House scolded sarcastically.

_Busted! _"Well, it's a good thing I did." Chase offered, not taking his scolding too seriously. "I agree with Foreman; it would probably do Wilson some good to get out of his bed, providing he stayed IN the wheelchair and kept the visit as short as possible. I don't want you gone longer than an hour." He said, looking more at Wilson than House, making sure the older doctor understood.

"I think we're being ganged up on Wilson. You take the wombat, he likes the pretty ones, and I'll take on the black guy." House snarked. "Ready?"

"WE aren't being ganged up on." Wilson reminded him with the tone of a parent reminding their child to clean their room. "You are." He looked at Foreman. "Let me know when she wakes again and have someone come and help me get there, in a wheelchair." He added the latter part of the sentence at a strong look from Chase. Wilson thought it had been implied but clearly the blond surgeon wasn't going to be tricked later on.

Foreman nodded and walked out with Chase, who knew he was no longer needed. House studied Wilson hard, making the younger man squirm a little in bed. Wilson thought he was he was in for one of House's "You're an Idiot!" speeches and though he knew it was unwarranted, he gladly prepared for it knowing it was one of House's ways to show that (in Wilson's case at least) he cared. He was pleasantly surprised when instead of the speech House asked, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." Wilson answered knowing immediately what his answer would be. "She's not going to do anything and she needs her doctor."

"I'm not worried about her doing something." Wilson frowned slightly. "No, idiot! I know she'll be too weak still and you won't be that close to her nor will you be alone." House amended upon noticing Wilson's frown, his tone implying he'd be going with Wilson. "I'm more concerned with your own health; you've only begun getting better. Don't you think a trip to the ICU is too much too soon?"

Wilson laughed, "Be careful House, you're starting to sound like a concerned family member." He joked, looking at House for a moment. "Since when did you get all conservative with Patient Care?" He asked smiling.

House smiled at his joke before his face went sincere. "Since the patient became you."

Wilson was touchingly stunned. He hadn't expected that answer to come out of House's mouth though he knew that was the reason. "House," he began, grabbing the older man's hand and giving it a light but reassuring squeeze. "I'll be fine. I'm feeling a lot better and a little trip to the ICU won't make me any sicker than I already am." He waited a few minutes to let the other man absorb the words before he changed the subject. "Now, I believe it's time for you to go eat, take a shower and go to work or sleep. None of which, can you do here. Go, I'm going to finish napping and sitting in that chair has got to be killing your leg."

House opened his mouth to argue but apparently his brain agreed with Wilson. "Fine, it's boring to sit here and watch you sleep all the time anyways." He dismissed while he stood up, stretching his leg a little before he began walking. It had begun to cramp up and only use would help loosen the ruined muscle.

"Bye House." Wilson called sleepily.

"Page me if you need me." Was all House replied as he walked out the door.

* * *

**_AN: There we are folks, another chapter! Sorry it took me a bit to update. Let me know what you think of it!_**

**_AN2: I forgot to mention. A Mole in the chemistry unit is 6X10 to the 23rd power. My chemistry teacher taught us a song about it and I had it in my head while I was writing. :o)  
_**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Cuddy sat in bed, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Wilson and House. She had woken up again and was told to let Foreman know when she wanted to see them which she told him right away. A nurse had been sent to get Wilson, who proceeded to get healthier, and House had refused to let him come alone.

They came in, a nurse pushing Wilson and House walking beside him. Wilson gave a smile as he entered but House kept a stone face. She knew that that meant he wasn't happy about Wilson coming here (and probably treating her too) and he didn't trust her.

"Good Morning." She greeted with a smile.

"Morning." Wilson returned, heading for her patient file. "How are you feeling?"

"Ok, a little tired but that's to be expected." She answered honestly. "How are you doing?"

Wilson's head snapped up, studying her with the practice of one who has lived with House. "I'm fine." He answered easily. "Getting better every day."

"That's good." She answered earnestly.

Wilson offered a half smile. "Anyways, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes." She began. At first Cuddy thought she was just going to talk with Wilson and see if he really wanted to handle her case but after watching and studying him, she changed her mind. "I think that you should let someone else handle my case until you're well enough to."

"And what makes you think I'm not?" Wilson countered, shock registering on his handsome face.

Cuddy just glared at him in the "Oh, Please!" way she does. "I may have had a brain tumor but I do remember that you were sick enough to need admitting to the hospital-"

"That was just because House wanted me to be." Wilson interrupted.

"-AND even if you hadn't you still weren't in any position to be doing anything but staying at home and in bed. Now I realize that House let you take over my case and I am more than grateful for that and should I still need an Oncologist in a few weeks you are more than welcome to take the case back but until you are 100% healthy and have the cardiomyopathy under control, I'm sorry you can't be my doctor; nor anyone else's. At this point in time I'm suggesting to your primary physician," she threw a meaningful look at House, "that you be released from the hospital and take a 2 week leave of absence to get your health back."

Wilson sat stunned; he hadn't expected this at all, least of all from Cuddy. It amazed him that she could still take an authoritative tone while being bald and hooked up to cardiac and EEG machines and an IV.

House wasn't stunned at all; in fact, he was ecstatic though he wasn't about to show anyone else that. He just wanted to get Wilson out of the hospital and away from everyone in it for a few weeks. Not only would it be best for Wilson's health but they had things that they needed to discuss and House thought it was best for it to be done at "home" rather than in the hospital.

He also knew that Cuddy wouldn't have one of her best department heads handling her (or anyone else's) case while they were ill and once she woke up and was made aware of the situation, she'd put an end to it.

"Great!" House said with an enthusiastic fervor that Wilson had come to loathe; usually it meant something else other than what he was saying. "Let's get down to the wombat and get you checked out of here Jimmy!" He stepped out quickly to grab a nurse's attention before he turned back to Cuddy. "I'm assuming that you also meant to give me the next 2 weeks off to take care of your Head of Oncology."

"House, I don't need anyone to take care of me." Wilson argued annoyed.

"I beg to differ." Cuddy interrupted, surprising both department heads. "You knew you were ill and yet you came to work anyways where you had a major asthma attack due to being ill and then suffered heart problems. I think that having someone with you for the next few weeks will do you good and since House is offering, I can think of no one better."

"You're not serious?" Wilson exclaimed. "Need I remind you who generally takes care of whom?"

"I know you normally play the caretaker role Wilson and that's why I think that it would be best for you to have him taking care of you for once." Cuddy argued logically though her voice intoned sympathy, compassion, pleading and concern.

Wilson looked into her soft grey-blue eyes trying to find some sort of persisting malice toward him but found none. Apparently she did want him taken care of and since House HAD offered, she thought he'd be best. He didn't really think he needed a caretaker but something in House's posture and crystal blue eyes stopped him from saying so, though he couldn't think what. "Fine." He conceded throwing his hands wearily up in the air.

"Good." She replied with a tired grin. "Now I think it's time for me to take a nap and looking at you, I think the same rings true."

Wilson smiled. Yes he was tired and she looked exhausted. "Very true." He told her as a nurse came in and stepped behind his chair. "Sleep well Cuddy and call me if you need anything. I'll hand your case over to Brown before I leave."

She gave a sleepy nod and the nurse pushed him out of the room, House following behind. Cuddy managed to stay awake long enough to see them disappear from sight and then fell asleep.

* * *

Wilson shakily walked into the condo, House following right behind ready to catch him if he should fall. It hadn't taken much argument on their side to get Chase to let him go since his health was improving daily but it had taken quite a lot of discussion to allow Wilson to walk around on his own without the help of the wheelchair.

Chase had insisted that Wilson wasn't strong enough (literally) to hold himself upright and had suggested that Wilson try only to be proven wrong when the oncologist got himself out of bed and walked across the room to where the Australian doctor was standing. Of course, after Chase had left, Wilson had collapsed back into bed and didn't move for the next 4 hours but still, Wilson wasn't about to use the wheelchair any longer than was necessary and as far as he was concerned necessary passed yesterday.

House silently nudged Wilson towards the bedroom. "Don't fall over til you get in bed; I won't be able to pick you up." He warns.

Wilson makes it onto the bed, falling into the softness and letting it swallow him whole with a groan. House sits down next to him, gently maneuvering his body so that he's fully on the bed. Wilson revels in the other man's touch, feeling his nerves ignite with heart stuttering electricity.

Once Wilson is settled, House crawls in bed with him. It has been a long passed few days and he is exhausted.

"House?" Wilson asks noticing that the diagnostician has joined him.

"Shut up and go to sleep." House replies groggily.

"Why are you in my bed?" Wilson mumbles.

House's blue eyes focus on Wilson's brown. "You don't want me here?" He asks, preparing to get up.

Wilson puts out his arm to stop him, laying it across House's chest. "I just didn't think you'd want to be."

"All those hours on that hard, uncomfortable hospital chair have gotten to me and I want a nap. But I can't keep an eye on you while I'm napping unless I'm in your bed with you." House explains, making it sound logical.

Wilson smiles, his eyes slitting open to stare at House. "If you're going to stay in here, you're going to pull your weight." He said grinning. "Get over here and keep me warm." He gives a tug on House's side, wincing when he realizes that his injured hand is the one keeping House from moving.

House moves a hand to Wilson's face, the back of it lying on top of Wilson's forehead. "After some meds." He says noticing the fever in his friend.

"For you or me?" Wilson quips knowing that House meant for him.

House's answer is to hand him a cup of water and his meds then crawl back into bed, scooting close enough to Wilson to provide heat but not actually touching. Wilson inwardly rolls his eyes and, after he's done taking his medicine, rolls himself over on to House, using his leg and arm to pin House to the spot.

Surprisingly House doesn't object, merely scoffs. "When we wake up," he begins, "we've got some things to discuss."

Wilson feels his heart plummet with worry but doesn't let on. Instead he smiles, gives House a light squeeze and then falls asleep, curled up with his friend.

* * *

**_AN: Sorry it took me so long to update. Hope this chapter was enough to appease you for now! _**


	8. Chapter 8

**_AN: Here we go, chapter 8. There is slash but no sex. Just an FYI. Please review! I think I'm getting close to ending this story, I just need to wrap things up nicely.  


* * *

_**

**Chapter 8:**

The next couple of weeks passed awkwardly for the two men. They had been avoiding the subject of their relationship and therefore were trying to touch (or talk) as little as possible. Each night passed with them eating dinner, watching tv and drinking beer then going to bed. The first few nights, it was fine with Wilson because he was still quite tired from being sick but as he got better, he started to get annoyed with the whole thing.

The final night of Wilson's leave, he decided enough is enough. He made a wonderful Chicken Marengo, some bread and red wine. As Wilson had suspected, they ate in silence, barely looking at each other but what he didn't expect was for House to bring up the subject.

"I think we should talk." House said with a sigh.

Even though it's what he wanted, Wilson didn't want to make the other man uncomfortable by agreeing right away and decided a little friendly banter was in order first. "Wait, you want to talk?"

"Not really," House said shaking his head in the negative. "but I've tried the whole not talking thing and it hasn't worked."

Wilson nodded his understanding. "Each night I go to bed wishing I was in your bed with you." He whispered just loudly enough for the other man to hear.

House's head snapped up at that confession. He had been staring at his dinner so he could get through the uncomfortable emotion-talk but he hadn't been expecting Wilson's latest statement even though he felt the same way.

He gazed at Wilson, softening his eyes when he saw trepidation and fear in the other man's deep brown irises. He surprised them both by reaching across the table and grabbing Wilson's hand in his own. House didn't know who was controlling his body but he was glad they were; the warmth and comfort he found in holding on to Wilson spread through his body, heating the ice blue in his eyes to a warm and welcoming cerulean.

"Well, since you aren't disgustingly sick anymore you're more than welcome to join me tonight. I had to protect myself against you spreading your sickness you know." He joked hoping the genuine offer didn't get lost in the banter.

Wilson smiled warmly at him, squeezing his hand gently. "Maybe I will." He said as he went back to his own food now that his stomach wasn't threatening to heave on him. "I still think we should discuss where my sleeping your bed will lead."

"Why Jimmy, are you afraid I'll take advantage of you?" House joked, faking shock.

"As opposed to the rest of the time when you view me as your ATM and Sounding Board, no, I'm not." Wilson answered back a little more bitterly than he meant. "I just want to know what you expect to happen and how fast."

House popped a couple bites of chicken into his mouth giving himself time to think. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to tell Wilson just how far he wants this "thing" between them to go so he decided he'd start at the obvious and see if Wilson led things on from there. "Well, I was thinking sex at least. I mean, it's the least we could do since we'll already be in bed."

"Is that it?" Wilson asked, keeping his facial features neutral though he feared his eyes showed the disappointment he felt.

"No." House answered softly. "I want you."

"Yeah, I think we've already established that." Wilson quipped.

"No, I mean I want YOU." House answered getting slowly more annoyed and embarrassed. How could Wilson be such an idiot? "I want you mind, body and soul." House cringed as he finished the sentence, mentally smacking himself in the forehead. _SO cheesy! When did he become so sappy? _

Wilson sat quietly for a moment, his brown eyes filling with tears. "Good," He said finally, blinking back the tears that he wouldn't dare let fall. "because I want no less than that of you."

They went back to eating, the silence in the room no longer awkward but contemplative and filled with excitement.

"What should we tell Cuddy?" Wilson asked as the though occurred to him.

"Nothing." House answered shortly.

"Nothing? You just want to leave her in the dark?" Wilson countered.

"She'll figure it out sooner or later." House shrugged it off as he finished his meal and wine.

"Yes she will and don't you think it would be better if she heard it from us first?" The oncologist argued while he picked up their plates and took them into the kitchen.

"It's none of her business." Came the nonchalant reply behind him.

"As our friend and your former girlfriend, I'd like to think it's her business."

"Why is this so important to you?" House argued back noticing that Wilson wouldn't be dropping the subject anytime soon.

"I just know that if the roles were reversed, I'd want to hear it from you and her rather than the rumor mill." Wilson reasoned.

House hung his head in defeat. Wilson had a good point, damn him! "Fine, we'll tell her tomorrow."

Knowing it was best to get it over and done with, Wilson nodded his head in agreement while he loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the counters and stove. Just as he finished and rinsed out the sponge, he felt House come behind him and slide his arms around Wilson's waist.

"Let's go to bed." He suggested in Wilson's ear.

Wilson could feel his nerves jive at the idea, dancing and bouncing all over the place. He allowed House to lead him into his bedroom and push him gently down on the bed. _Please don't let me disappoint him!_ Wilson silently prayed as House began to strip them both.

* * *

The next day, House and Wilson walked into PPTH in their usual fashion. The staff seemed to buzz with excitement and upon further inspection Wilson discovered that it was because Cuddy had been allowed to return to work, part time.

Wilson was excited for Cuddy but concerned and curious as well so he headed straight for his office to drop his stuff off and then for the Oncology department where he hoped to find Brown. The nurse at the desk said that Dr. Brown was with a patient but she was told to give him Cuddy's file to view. She handed him said file and gave him a warm, welcoming smile and welcomed him back to work and asked if he was feeling better.

He returned the smile with ease and assured her that he was feeling much better but had to go so he could begin "Catch-Up". The nurse blushed deeply and allowed him to leave.

He clutched the file tightly to his chest as he passed other well wishers and headed for the Diagnostic's Department to grab a desperately needed cup of coffee. He hadn't been in his office long but he still noticed the Mount Everest of paperwork and the rapidly blinking voicemail alert on his phone. He hated taking long absences of leave; it meant MORE work for him when he got back.

Wilson's first priority of business when he got in his office was to lock the door and keep the phone forwarded to voicemail. He wanted privacy to read over Cuddy's file.

It wasn't until a knock sounded at his door that he looked up from it, feeling the ache in his neck and back at being kept in the same position for, 3 HOURS! He hadn't realized that he'd been reading the same file over and over for so long.

He got up and unlocked the door, allowing the person on the other side to enter while he went back to his desk.

"Hey." A familiar gentle voice greeted behind him.

Wilson turned around to find Cuddy standing uncomfortably in his office. She had a silk scarf covering her head, a silk dark turquoise short-sleeved blouse and a pencil grey skirt on. Her arms were folded nervously across her chest, like she was protecting herself from something. "Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as he stepped around his desk and pulled up a chair for her that she took gratefully.

"I'm good." She answered, breathing out a sigh of relief. "I actually came here to see how you were doing and to get your opinions on my case." She fiddled with a loose thread on her skirt. "I knew it wouldn't take you long to go looking for the file when you arrived." She half joked, smiling warmly at him.

"Yeah, well when I heard the Dean of Medicine was returning to work part time I got curious." He quipped, ignoring her concern for his well-being. He stood up and grabbed the file off his desk, perusing it once again before he gave her his opinion.

"I'm glad that you feel well enough to return," he began hesitantly, "but I would like you to wait another couple of months before you return. I know that Brown gave you every test he could to make sure that there was no lingering tumors or cancer cells but I would like to give you 1 round of chemo to make sure. You never can be too careful with these things."

Cuddy's eyes fell to her lap. "I thought you'd say that." She admitted sadly.

"I'm sorry Lisa, but I would really rather make sure that we have done our best to make sure that there's nothing left than to leave it up to chance." Wilson soothed, leaning in towards her but not touching her. "I know that you don't like the idea of being gone from work but the chemo will leave you drained and barely able to function. I'd prefer it if you were able to go home and rest afterwards than come back here where stress and House may drain you further." Wilson drew in a deep breath, allowing what he was saying to register in her mind before he continued. "Do you have someone who can help take care of you and Rachel?"

Cuddy nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "Yeah," her voice cracked slightly, "Lucas found out what was going on and has insisted on moving into the play room until I'm healthy."

Now Wilson understood Cuddy's nervousness; she was worried what he would think of her for allowing Lucas to help and move in with her. "Good." He said sincerely. "I'm glad that you have him. You're going to need someone you can count on to be there and I wouldn't trust anyone else."

Her head snapped up, blue-grey eyes meeting soft brown. "You don't even know him." She said not fully able to hide the accusatory tone in her voice.

"No, I don't." Wilson admitted with a sigh. "But I do know that your relationship with him was smoother than your relationship with House ever was and part of it was because you knew you could count on him to be there for you whenever you needed it without having to trade favors."

Cuddy's expression went from anger to shock to indignation then acceptance in a matter of seconds, which Wilson was grateful for, before she hung her head. He knew that telling the blunt truth was never easy on the person receiving the news but he needed her to trust him and to trust that he only had her best interests at heart.

"When can we start the chemo?" She asked, meeting his gaze again.

"I'll look and see when we have an opening but I should be able to get you in before Wednesday." He answered, standing up and walking back around his desk.

"Sounds good." She said as she stood up and headed towards the door. Just before she left she turned back around, "Are you and House together?" Wilson choked on the drink of coffee he had just taken having not expected that question. Cuddy gave him a smile. "It's ok, I'm glad for both of you and I hope that you can make him happier than I did." She responded almost sadly.

Wilson kept staring blankly at the door long after it had been closed. On one hand he was relieved that she knew but on the other, the sad tone in her voice led him to believe that she wasn't has happy for them as she tried to sound and that hurt. He hadn't expected her to be happy about it right away but he hated knowing that their happiness hurt her. Even after all that had progressed in the last 10 months, she was still his friend and he felt like he was betraying her by being with House.

He snapped out of his dazed and began to focus on the work that completely covered his desk and filled his inbox, thankful that he had a distraction for now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

Wilson stood on the tennis court staring into the sun and trying to see where the ball would land. He quickly changed his direction, backed up and swung the ball cross-court. Months had passed since the incident with pneumonia and Cuddy's tumor. Thankfully they caught the tumor early and after 1 round of chemo, she had been declared cancer free.

Though the arrangement had been for Lucas to move out once Cuddy was healthy again, he ended up staying and moving from the play room to Cuddy's bedroom; her wardrobe merging with his. They had managed to patch things up after what had happened between them and were now taking their relationship slowly; enjoying each other's company and Rachel rather than what others (Cuddy's mom for example) thought.

Things between Cuddy, House and Wilson had slowly begun to get back to normal. As Cuddy's own happiness with Lucas and being cancer free grew, so did her happiness for House and Wilson. They had begun to become friends again, with the normal Cuddy-House banter daily and both of them coming to Wilson for a place to hide (House) and advice (Cuddy).

When Dr. Rodriguez, who was a younger doctor around Chase's age, in Pathology came up to him one day and asked if Wilson wanted to join him in a game of tennis, after having heard that Wilson used to play in College, the oncologist readily agreed. He had remembered using tennis as a good way of getting out his frustrations with school or his family and thought it might be a good way now.

Unfortunately, Wilson wasn't in college anymore and no longer in shape while his opponent was. Rodriguez had decided not to keep score, thankfully, but Wilson still tried to make sure that he reached and returned every single hit. It helped to create a lot of good volleys and leaving the older man worn out.

He finally had to admit defeat and told Rodriguez with a sincere smile that he would have to quit after the next volley but he'd love to play again. The younger man let out a warming laugh but nodded his head in agreement while he waited for Wilson to get ready for the next and last serve.

The ball flew up in the air, the racket hitting it with a resounding _thwack_ and sending it soaring towards Wilson's torso. Wilson stepped back to avoid getting hit with the ball, not realizing there was a stray ball from the couple playing in the next court over behind him.

He straightened up and quickly took a step back effectively getting out of the way of the Ace. His left foot landed on top of the ball, his ankle twisting painfully and popping underneath him. With most of his weight on his left leg, the rest of his body fell hard onto the hard court; his knee connecting first and scraping as his upper body pushed it into the ground.

Rodriguez was on his way before Wilson had even hit the ground. He had noticed the action the other man was taking and knew it wouldn't end well. "James?" He asked, concern coloring his deep Spanish accent as he kneeled down on the ground next to the pained oncologist. He gently grabbed a hold of Wilson's shoulders and rolled him over onto his back. "Are you alright?" He asked while he scanned his eyes over Wilson, assessing his injuries. The couple whose ball had caused the accident came running over to make sure Wilson was ok and were kneeling next to Rodriguez.

Wilson grimaced and clenched his teeth. "Yeah, I'm ok." He answered as he gingerly pushed himself to sitting.

"I'm not so sure about that," Rodriguez answered as he moved down to inspect Wilson's ankle and bleeding knee, "unless you plan on hopping your way to your car. You're ankle won't be able to take any weight and we need to get your knee cleaned up."

Wilson waited for Rodriguez to stand up and hold out his hand for him to grab. One man from the other group came around and mimicked Rodriguez' actions. The oncologist blushed but with the heat from the day no one noticed; he hated needing this much help especially from strangers. He reached up his hands and grabbed the two that were held out, allowing his blood pressure to adjust to the change of direction and balancing precariously on one leg.

When they decided that Wilson wouldn't pass out on them, the two men ducked under his arms and helped him over to a bench on the side of the court. Wilson stretched out his left leg on the bench, wincing at the sting he received from his knee.

Rodriguez began to get ready to clean out the scrape and asked for the other person to see if they could get an ice pack from the main center but Wilson stopped him.

"No, don't bother." He said, grabbing the attention of both men who looked at him like he was crazy. Rodriguez had his cell phone out, dialing the number of an ambulance service. "I think I'll just go home, take care of everything there. Thankfully it's my left leg and I can still drive." He reasoned.

"Will Dr. House be there to help you?" Rodriguez questioned, deciding whether or not he actually wanted to comply with Wilson's request.

"Yeah." Wilson answered, carefully making sure to leave out that House won't be helping him get inside. He wasn't about to put that much pressure on House's bad leg since it was more than likely that Wilson wouldn't be able to do much moving around tonight which meant that House would.

"Alright though I still think we should call an ambulance and get you checked out at the hospital." Rodriguez grudgingly agreed before he gathered their tennis equipment and asked the other two to help him get Wilson to his car.

"I'll be fine, believe me. If Dr. House thinks I should go to the ER then I'll go but I really don't think there's any need." Wilson answered, grimacing as he moved and stood up making sure he didn't place any weight on his leg.

The trip to the car was painfully slow since Wilson wasn't able to walk too fast with his injured ankle. When they got to the car he thanked his two helpers for their patience and waved off the apologies he received in turn before they left. He leaned against the passenger door and opened the driver door, gently climbing in and hissing when he managed to bend his ankle trying to get the injured leg in the car.

"I'm going to stop by and check on you tomorrow." Rodriguez warned as he came up to the driver's side and closed the door.

"There's no need for that." Wilson placated as he started the car, anxious to get the AC going.

"Well, we need to figure out when you'll be able to play again." The other man smiled. "Take care of yourself and please consider going to the ER." He suggested before he walked away, heading to his own car.

* * *

Wilson made it home without incident and made his way into the building, thankful it had an elevator. Since it was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, the building was virtually empty excepting those that had odd schedules and hours to keep so no one was available to offer assistance; not that he'd accept it if they were.

The first thing he heard when he entered the condo was House's voice yelling, "I'm hungry! What are you making for dinner?" Even through the pain he managed a smile at that.

"You're making your own dinner, and mine, tonight!" Wilson called back, leaning on the wall as he limped heavily into the living room.

"But mom-" House began until he turned his head to look at his partner. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked as he got up and went over to Wilson who was trying to make his way to the couch without putting weight on his ankle which had become badly swollen and would no longer hold his weight.

"Fell playing tennis. Sprained my ankle, scraped my knee." Wilson summarized as he leaned into the older man, allowing the deceptively strong diagnostician to take most of his weight.

House got Wilson onto the couch and then quickly limped into the kitchen to pull out a bag of frozen peas. "Just because your name is on the tennis balls, doesn't mean you can actually PLAY tennis you know?" He called out.

"Wilson makes a lot of sports equipment House!" Wilson called back, grimacing as a fresh wave of pain emanated from his foot.

House sat down on the coffee table, ignoring his Girls Gone Wild show behind him, and placed the bag of peas and a towel next to him. With the gentle touch of a doctor he grabbed Wilson's leg and placed it on his left thigh. "Time to take off the shoe." He said cheerily though his eyes relayed the unspoken apology for the pain it will cause.

Swiftly, House untied the shoelace and proceeded to take it fully out of the shoe. He knew that with the degree of swelling in Wilson's ankle had foot he wasn't going to be able to get the shoe off with it there. He pulled up the tongue of the shoe to be able to get the tennis shoe off as easily as he could, then without remorse or hesitation pulled the shoe off with one hand while the other held onto the injured ankle.

Wilson cried out in pain at the action as it slightly jerked and pulled his extremely painful ankle. He bit his lip to keep in the whimper that threatened to follow as two tears streaked down his cheeks.

House felt guilt and pain stab his heart at his lover's pain but kept focused on gently removing the sock and examining the swollen and bruised joint. A few whimpers escaped Wilson's lips while House prodded and manipulated his ankle and foot, checking for the feeling of grinding bones or the pop or snap of the ligaments. He frowned when he thought he could feel something but couldn't be sure.

When he finished, House placed the towel and then the pack of peas over Wilson's ankle, allowing the bag to conform to the shape of the swollen joint. He stood up and walked into the bedroom, changing from his sweats to jeans and grabbing a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt for Wilson knowing he wouldn't want to go anywhere in his sweaty shorts and t-shirt.

He walked back into the living room to find Wilson leaning his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closed and his face scrunched in pain. House tossed the items onto Wilson's lap causing the oncologist to snap his eyes open and stare at the articles of clothing before turning a confused look House's way.

"Get changed, we're going to the ER." House told him as he sat down in the armchair diagonal from the couch.

"House, no, I'll be fine." Wilson argued weakly. He began to change knowing that he'd lose the argument and that it would be great to get out of his sweaty clothes.

"I disagree." House countered. "I think you may have broken your ankle."

"May have?" Wilson asked as he grudgingly took off the frozen peas and stood to slip off his shorts.

"Can't tell." The older man answered as he came over to allow Wilson to lean into him while he got into his jeans. Thankfully this pair was baggier than the others so his shoed foot slipped easily through the leg.

Wilson frowned at his answer but stayed quiet realizing that it had been a small blow to his friend's ego to admit that he didn't know 100%.

Once he was ready, Wilson began his steady, painful limp towards the front door where House was noisily searching through the hall closet.

With a cry of triumph House pulled out a shorter cane and handed it to Wilson to use. Wilson gave him a curious look. "It was one of my first canes but it was too short." House answered as he turned around to grab Wilson's keys off the table. "Come on, hurry up. I don't want to be stuck at the hospital all night because you're moving as quickly as an 80 year old grandfather." He scolded jokingly as he ushered Wilson out the door, closing it behind them.

* * *

When the boys walked back into their condo Wilson was sporting a pair of crutches, a heavily bandaged left ankle and a compression wrapped knee. The doctor had determined that Wilson had sprained his knee when he fell and didn't see a need for any stronger wrapping since Wilson wouldn't be able to put weight on his leg for the next 3-4 weeks at least, due to his severely sprained ankle.

Wilson collapsed on the couch in exhaustion, leaning his head against the back of the couch and closing his eyes. It had been a busy day and he was ready for a good meal then bed. He felt gentle hands lift his leg and place a couple pillows beneath his ankle and then the cold of a bag of frozen peas over on top. He smiled as he let out a contented smile, feeling House place a gentle but loving kiss on his forehead.

He smiled when he remembered the doctor telling him the results and his groan of despair. The oncologist remembered the last time he had hurt his ankle that badly and it hadn't been fun! House had whispered in his ear, "Don't worry Wilson. This time you have me to take care of you!"

* * *

**_~fin~_**


End file.
